The summer was a lot easier. He’d actually not expected that— half believing that the universe would spite his wishes for even a little less work, because it was the 32nd Library of East Saffron they were talking about— nothing could ever be easy there. How actual mortals dealt with the sheer amount of work they had, he had no idea.

  But, no, it was easier. The lunch crowd of students didn’t spill in everyday anymore, the amount of books checked out was down by half, and— almost miraculously— he found himself with actual free time during the day. All three of them took it differently— Lexi got caught up on paperwork or something, he didn’t ask and she didn’t tell, Janus took long breaks in the park outside, soaking up the sunlight and good weather, and he…

  He wandered the library, and relaxed in that comfortably silent air.

  It wouldn’t last forever. He knew that, of course, because nothing lasted forever… except, perhaps, Immortal Sovereigns, but that was besides the point. Still, as the weeks fled by, he spent his workdays reading books in the comforting silence, touch of sunlight lit, spilled out across shelves on shelves of books in thousand-piece slats of radiance streaming through scattered books leaned astray. Getting to know, in the way that only a watcher could, the peculiar transformation of the library-in-summer.

  Parents would bring their kids, questing around for age-appropriate works of fiction, something that occasionally got elevated to his notice. Teens came in after long days playing in the park, sunlight stricken and desperate for even a small bit of cool air. Occasionally, older patrons would stop by, searching for something in particular or simply wandering, like he did, trading a glance and a nod and not speaking as they stood in respect of an institution that had come before them and would live beyond them. Probably.

  A very— a very, very few— came to study.

  They drew his eye like none of the others did, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was because of how divorced from the calm summer atmosphere they were— an ever-present aura of stress around them, palpable enough to be felt even with his much-reduced spiritual senses. Most came in for a short time, only— a few days, a week, pouring over textbooks desperately and then leaving, again. One, though…

  He first noticed her two weeks into the summer— and on scouring his memories, realized she’d been coming for much longer before that. A girl— or a young woman? The distinction was essentially meaningless— every day coming with the morning, grabbing one textbook or another and a stack of papers or a notebook, and leaving with the afternoon sunset having painstakingly forged ahead through pages of work. It spoke to a determination… and that interested him.

  So he waited, and watched, and saw— again and again, the same routine, as the first month of summer bled into the second and she painstakingly forged forward; such burden of stress on her shoulders and in the essence of her being as the library’s thin qi flows eddied around her… but also, fascinatingly, such burden of hope in equal measure upholding.

  Nobody else noticed.

  Nobody else cared. Not any of the other students, not any of the adults or kids or even Janus, or Lexi— though the last one was understandable, the chief librarian was heinously busy even come the summer. Yet… bereft of anything, she forged onwards.

  Until, she didn’t.

  It didn’t take him long to notice her mounting frustration, one day. It wasn’t at all a subtle thing— even if his spiritual sense said been occluded entirely, he wasn’t blind— he could see the way she glared at her current textbook of choice like it had personally wronged her, her family, her sect, and her entire realm— the way she wrote, scribbling down formulas and then far more fiercely scratching them out, just as quickly. Angry.

  Mingtian found himself conflicted on what to do… but only for a moment.

  He pulled out a chair and sat beside her, the motion graceful enough— silent enough— that she didn’t even notice he was sitting beside her for a good thirty seconds. When she did, though, it was hilarious— she yelped, jumping straight up in her seat before crashing down just as sharply, the clatter of noise clamorous in the library quiet. “Immortals! You scared me—” she paused, eyes widening just a little— “Librarian? Sorry. Am I in trouble?”

  He shook his head. “Not as such. I just noticed you were having problems with…” mathematics, as it turned out. Advanced Mathematics, Seventh Edition, by Professor Yurian Jade, funnily enough; he recognized the title. “And, I thought that I should come see what was ailing you.”

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  She grimaced, scrunching up her nose in a distaste, so very cutely. Like a kitten. “You make it sound like I’ve come down sick or something. I’m fine— this isn’t the first time I’ve struggled with a topic, and it’s not going to be the last. If I plan on making it to East Saffron University, then I can’t let something like this stop me.”

  “You can also ask for help. Trust me, even immortals sometimes do that.” Rarely, but it did happen.

  “Ugh. Just… don’t. I will be a cultivator, no matter how much you, or anyone else tells me I should be ‘more reasonable’ or whatever.” He blinked. That… wasn’t what he’d said at all, but it seemed he’d hit a sore spot for her. “And I’m not going to give up just because I have to learn stupid idiot useless maths.”

  He laughed. How spiteful! How delightful— as she scowled, but before she could keep speaking— “I believe you.” That drew her up short. “Honestly. If you want to be a cultivator, then strive for it. Tear down the skies for it, and salt the earth for it— and never let anyone else tell you otherwise.” Such was the purview of those who sought to defy the heavens. He knew that intimately.

  “Actually?” She whispered, for a moment, her maths entirely forgotten. “You think I could do it?”

  “I don’t see why you couldn’t.”

  She was silent for a long moment, just staring down at her book before sighing. “Alright, fine, I’ll bite. What am I doing wrong? I don’t get what the point of this is…” he glanced down at what she was learning at the moment, a lesson about… topology? Using a bunch of really terrible, abstract examples. Well, she was in luck— if there was one thing the Immortal Sovereign of Boundless Radiance had experience in teaching more than anything else, it was formations.

  He waved a hand behind his back, surreptitiously pulling out a brush and a few sheets of paper from his spatial ring and setting them down on the table in front of her. Luckily, she was far too mortal to realize that she was in the presence of a spiritual tool enchanted to the level of a peak Immortal Ascension artefact. “You’re kind of half right. This is stupid. But not because the maths are stupid— rather, the examples they’re using are just… pointless. Watch. What would you call this?”

  Six strokes later, the character for brightness lay centered perfectly on the paper in front of them. The girl leaned forward, squinting in confusion as she looked at the unfamiliar character— only to recoil in surprise when her breath stirred the qi flows enough to make it glow weakly. “Is that a rune? Wait— are you a cultivator?”

  He laughed. “Not at all,” he lied through his teeth. “I merely have some small expertise in formations studies. Now, that wasn’t what I wanted to show you… this is a simple, weak rune, no?” She didn’t respond, too busy breathing over the rune and watching in fascination as it pulsed with faint light. Mortals… “well, what if I were to give you a three-dimensional structure, and ask you to scribe it onto a two-dimensional space? What would you do?”

  “Um… math?”

  “Have at it then.” He quickly scratched out a depiction of the three dimensional rune for brightness, then slid the paper over to her. “Try it.” Carefully, she reached out for his brush— then darted her hand back, then— chuckling, Mingtian handed it and a small inkpot over, and just— watched her.

  She did well, actually.

  Clearly, she was frustrated— after all, she’d been having problems with the stupid book, so it wasn’t like she was instantly going to become a master. Still, she tried her best and— as the hours trickled on, she kept iterating and iterating, solving and resolving and straining to complete the rune with such fervor that she entirely disregarded how quickly time flew.

  Finally, she put the finishing touches on her creation, a massive, rough thing scrawled out across an entire page, and… nothing happened. Her face fell, crushed. “I was certainI got everything right. What went wrong? I thought…”

  “You did well actually.” Gently, he took the brush from her, drawing on a different sheet of paper with smooth, sure strokes. “At least mathematically, you got everything right. All that you missed was a matter of technique— each stroke, a stroke, each curving form part of a single, greater whole.” It came together, almost completely the same as hers, but… smoother. Perfectly written, and so slightly tinged with his style of writing formations— that echo of essence of boundless brilliance. With a flourish, he put the final stroke on the light rune, and handed it over to the girl. “Close your eyes before you activate it.”

  She scowled, but obeyed, and blew—

  And light.

  Such light. A brilliant, blinding glow erupted from the rune for a single second, sharply carving out every individual grain of wood, furrow of paper and skin and voluminous tome— before the rune burnt itself out with a puff of smoke. Oops… he was going to get yelled at by Lexi for that, wasn’t he…

  To see the awed look of the girl though, eyes alight with a reflection of that radiance, conviction, determination…

  Worth it. Totally worth it.

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